I've decided I dislike my job at the tutoring center. It's not the kids. No. I like the kids. It's...my boss. And frankly, I really need to secure a full-time job for the fall before I shrivel up and die inside.
The center I work in is severely lacking in new, clean materials. We routinely use books with pages falling out of them and books that have been written in, making them look not only unprofessional but ALSO a cheating student's dream. We're expected to use dry erase boards and markers for a significant part of our lessons, but the dry erase boards are warped, bubbled up, peeling, and dirty, and the dry erase markers barely write anymore. Despite this, my boss will not shell out for new materials. Why? Because her bonus check at the end of each year is dependent on the center's profit, and if she can avoid buying new teaching materials it means more money in her pocket at the end of the fiscal year. Lovely.
My main problem with this boss is that she's extremely passive aggressive, and I don't handle that well, especially when it's sooooo obvious and pathetic...not the careful manipulation someone like me could orchestrate. For example, our time cards are processed on Thursdays, so in order for our Thursday hours to count, we have to fill out our time worked on Thursday on Wednesday evening before we actually work the Thursday hours. Typically, I will get done with work at 6:45 on Thursdays. However, twice now she has stood over me and forced me to write 6:30 as my clock-out time for Thursday so she can avoid paying me an extra 15 minutes. I want to stab her for this, and the second time it happened I made my body language very clear that I would destroy her if she ever stood over my shoulder again and tried to cheat me out of paid work time.
A couple of weeks ago we had a small run-in about my work attire. I went to work wearing black pinstripe crop pants and a black shirt. The crop pants fall about 3 inches above my ankle. When I said hello, I immediately noticed she was giving me the up and down. "Oh God, WHAT?" I thought to myself. But I said nothing because she said nothing. So I went and worked my shift. At the end of the evening when everyone was packing up to leave, I was cornered on my own when she came up to me. "I just wanted to let you know so you know for the future," she said as I sat at my desk and she stood over me, "that shorts aren't allowed." What I wanted to say: "Are you freaking NUTS, lady? These are not shorts and you f-ing KNOW IT." What I DID say: "Well yeah, of course. That would be unprofessional, and I don't ever wear shorts anyway. I haven't since I was in middle school." Her response? "Well, just so long as you know." Um yeah psycho, whatever.
Fast forward to yesterday. Apparently it is Teacher Appreciation Week. Nothing...and I do mean nothing...makes me feel more appreciated for my $9/hr than what I found waiting for me at my table. I rounded the corner to discover a single napkin on my chair. Atop that napkin was a single cupcake that (I swear) was literally the size of a quarter. My boss rounded the corner right behind me and proclaimed, "That's just a little something from me for Teacher Appreciation Week." I tell you, friend, there are times when I can literally feel a part of my soul dying. I felt that sensation loud and clear when I had to suppress everything inside myself and feign the kind of extreme enthusiasm I knew she expected for her "generosity." I felt the bile rise in my throat as I exclaimed, "Thank you so much! That's so nice of you!" If that wasn't f-ing bad enough, she stood there and waited, nonverbally insisting that I eat the tiny, pathetic, quarter-sized cupcake in front of her and further express my gratitude.
God. It's times like this I hate my life.
Showing posts with label a-holes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label a-holes. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Phishing for Answers
Yesterday evening, I had to give a little girl the nonsense words test that I wrote about a few posts ago. Guess what word came up, friends? Oh, you guessed it. P-H-I-S-H.
How did the little girl pronounce it?
FISH.
I am vindicated. She missed every other word, but for the love of God, at least she got that one without hesitation.
In other news, many of you know about my ongoing one-sided death match with my former landlord. For the sake of this blog we'll call him David (because that is his name). If you remember the old Windows Live Spaces blog, I'm sure you'll recall a number of problems I had with David. They included (but are not limited to):
1. He attempted to cut down a 30-foot-long span of 8-foot-tall bushes with a pair of hedge trimmers and then, because he was too cheap to haul the yard waste away, he systematically attempted to BURN the bushes IN A PAINT CAN (I swear) over the course of several weeks, violating numerous city codes related to fire, smoke, being an idiot, etc. This brought Kathy and me ENDLESS delight as we would observe this burning ritual day after day until finally some neighbor called the fire department and they came and made him put it out. (I have pictures. Thanks again, Kathy, for having the presence of mind to document the occasion.) In case you're wondering, he made about eight feet of progress and then left the wilted shrubs out to rot. They're still there along with the now-rusted paint can.
2. He had a "girlfriend" (this is in quotes because it seemed that she was more of an indentured servant than a girlfriend) who was very nice but was, for lack of a better word, his bitch. There was NO END to the things he would ask her to do for him, and much to our amazement she did them all! Goodbyeeeee, self esteem, is all I can say about that. These chores included her manning the burning paint can for hours on end while he left or played chess and drank with his roommate; taking his laundry away, doing it for him, and then returning it FOLDED for him; cooking for him AND his roommate; and (this is my favorite) mowing the lawn at ten o'clock at night in the PITCH DARK for him. After ALL of this that she did for him, David admitted to Kathy that the girlfriend was nice but that he wished he would've found someone hotter. Just...just read it all again and then let it stew. Yeah....now you've come along on that journey.
3. He refused to do anything like help with snow removal, despite the fact that he lived there too, so by the time we moved out it was a death trap of glacially compacted ice. My husband and I had to go buy 120 pounds of sand to put on the driveway just to keep ourselves from dying as we moved all the heavy stuff.
4. He forced me to play chess with him once and then bragged about his liquor stock, which, when I added it up in my head, was worth more than my CAR.
5. Sunday night Martini Nights. I swear. Is it sinking in what a douchebag this guy is?
6. To top it all of, he had (has) a myspace page, and the background of the page is tiled pictures of Michaelangelo's statue of David. Our David, dipshit, douchebag landlord David, has written on his profile, "By the way, that picture is the statue of David." It just...makes me cringe.
Anyway, before we moved out I left David a note telling him my new address and how to get ahold of me and all of that crap so he could send my deposit to me. Weeks passed and in the middle of February I called him (having found his phone number on the infamous myspace page because he never would actually give it to me in person). I left a voicemail reminding him to send it. He did nothing.
So a couple of weeks later I called and left another voicemail that was a little firmer. Again, nothing.
Finally I got pissed and put on my business voice and drafted a letter in March that said, essentially, "I will have you by the balls in court if you don't send my deposit back by (insert date here)." STILL nothing, as my "I'd better have that check in hand by April 11th" ultimatum neared.
Well, kids. Imagine my surprise when he called the other night. Incredible. "Whaaaaa?" he asked like the true wank he is. "I totally sent you your deposit back and an explanation of charges way back in January!"
Me: "Noooo ya didn't. And didn't you notice that that much money never left your bank account?"
Him: "I'll be honest, I don't really check my bank account ever." UH HUH.
Me: "Well I never got the money that you claim you sent. I don't want to have to sue you because it is going to be an enormous pain in my ass, but I will do it. I'll be there next week for a wedding and I'll file papers while I'm there if I have to."
Him: "No no! Oh this is just a miscommunication! I'll FedEx a new check on Friday! Saturday at the latest."
Me: "Uh huh."
Etc. Etc. Blah blah it was insufferable.
It went on like this for a few minutes, but I can't be bothered typing it all. The point is he's keeping $140 of the deposit because he claims he needed to replace the drip pans on the stove (that's fair) and change some lightbulbs (interesting, since apparently in his world lightbulbs go for something like $10 a pop, and there were only three fixed ceiling bulbs in the entire apartment anyway, all of which worked just fine when we left). He also claimed my roommate stacked up "18 bags of trash" that he had to pay extra to remove, which is hilarious because 1. all the trash that was there was there before I left, and Kathy specifically talked to David about it being a lot of trash and he said no problem....she added nothing to it and MOST of that trash was stuff that had been accumulating from both apartments for a month because it was icy and David wouldn't help us take the trash down (he made his girlfriend do it), and frankly we were sick of it; and 2. according to an acquaintance who drove by the place at the end of March, all (ALL) of that trash was STILL THERE, thus showing he hasn't paid extra to get rid of it.
Blah, whatever. So the point is I'm supposed to be FINALLY getting this deposit back (or most of it, since I don't feel like fighting him tooth-and-nail about the rest of it, even though I should just to make his life a living hell) soon. I don't know about you, but I'll believe it when I see it.
How did the little girl pronounce it?
FISH.
I am vindicated. She missed every other word, but for the love of God, at least she got that one without hesitation.
In other news, many of you know about my ongoing one-sided death match with my former landlord. For the sake of this blog we'll call him David (because that is his name). If you remember the old Windows Live Spaces blog, I'm sure you'll recall a number of problems I had with David. They included (but are not limited to):
1. He attempted to cut down a 30-foot-long span of 8-foot-tall bushes with a pair of hedge trimmers and then, because he was too cheap to haul the yard waste away, he systematically attempted to BURN the bushes IN A PAINT CAN (I swear) over the course of several weeks, violating numerous city codes related to fire, smoke, being an idiot, etc. This brought Kathy and me ENDLESS delight as we would observe this burning ritual day after day until finally some neighbor called the fire department and they came and made him put it out. (I have pictures. Thanks again, Kathy, for having the presence of mind to document the occasion.) In case you're wondering, he made about eight feet of progress and then left the wilted shrubs out to rot. They're still there along with the now-rusted paint can.
2. He had a "girlfriend" (this is in quotes because it seemed that she was more of an indentured servant than a girlfriend) who was very nice but was, for lack of a better word, his bitch. There was NO END to the things he would ask her to do for him, and much to our amazement she did them all! Goodbyeeeee, self esteem, is all I can say about that. These chores included her manning the burning paint can for hours on end while he left or played chess and drank with his roommate; taking his laundry away, doing it for him, and then returning it FOLDED for him; cooking for him AND his roommate; and (this is my favorite) mowing the lawn at ten o'clock at night in the PITCH DARK for him. After ALL of this that she did for him, David admitted to Kathy that the girlfriend was nice but that he wished he would've found someone hotter. Just...just read it all again and then let it stew. Yeah....now you've come along on that journey.
3. He refused to do anything like help with snow removal, despite the fact that he lived there too, so by the time we moved out it was a death trap of glacially compacted ice. My husband and I had to go buy 120 pounds of sand to put on the driveway just to keep ourselves from dying as we moved all the heavy stuff.
4. He forced me to play chess with him once and then bragged about his liquor stock, which, when I added it up in my head, was worth more than my CAR.
5. Sunday night Martini Nights. I swear. Is it sinking in what a douchebag this guy is?
6. To top it all of, he had (has) a myspace page, and the background of the page is tiled pictures of Michaelangelo's statue of David. Our David, dipshit, douchebag landlord David, has written on his profile, "By the way, that picture is the statue of David." It just...makes me cringe.
Anyway, before we moved out I left David a note telling him my new address and how to get ahold of me and all of that crap so he could send my deposit to me. Weeks passed and in the middle of February I called him (having found his phone number on the infamous myspace page because he never would actually give it to me in person). I left a voicemail reminding him to send it. He did nothing.
So a couple of weeks later I called and left another voicemail that was a little firmer. Again, nothing.
Finally I got pissed and put on my business voice and drafted a letter in March that said, essentially, "I will have you by the balls in court if you don't send my deposit back by (insert date here)." STILL nothing, as my "I'd better have that check in hand by April 11th" ultimatum neared.
Well, kids. Imagine my surprise when he called the other night. Incredible. "Whaaaaa?" he asked like the true wank he is. "I totally sent you your deposit back and an explanation of charges way back in January!"
Me: "Noooo ya didn't. And didn't you notice that that much money never left your bank account?"
Him: "I'll be honest, I don't really check my bank account ever." UH HUH.
Me: "Well I never got the money that you claim you sent. I don't want to have to sue you because it is going to be an enormous pain in my ass, but I will do it. I'll be there next week for a wedding and I'll file papers while I'm there if I have to."
Him: "No no! Oh this is just a miscommunication! I'll FedEx a new check on Friday! Saturday at the latest."
Me: "Uh huh."
Etc. Etc. Blah blah it was insufferable.
It went on like this for a few minutes, but I can't be bothered typing it all. The point is he's keeping $140 of the deposit because he claims he needed to replace the drip pans on the stove (that's fair) and change some lightbulbs (interesting, since apparently in his world lightbulbs go for something like $10 a pop, and there were only three fixed ceiling bulbs in the entire apartment anyway, all of which worked just fine when we left). He also claimed my roommate stacked up "18 bags of trash" that he had to pay extra to remove, which is hilarious because 1. all the trash that was there was there before I left, and Kathy specifically talked to David about it being a lot of trash and he said no problem....she added nothing to it and MOST of that trash was stuff that had been accumulating from both apartments for a month because it was icy and David wouldn't help us take the trash down (he made his girlfriend do it), and frankly we were sick of it; and 2. according to an acquaintance who drove by the place at the end of March, all (ALL) of that trash was STILL THERE, thus showing he hasn't paid extra to get rid of it.
Blah, whatever. So the point is I'm supposed to be FINALLY getting this deposit back (or most of it, since I don't feel like fighting him tooth-and-nail about the rest of it, even though I should just to make his life a living hell) soon. I don't know about you, but I'll believe it when I see it.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Serenity Now, God
Trying to talk to those imbeciles at AT&T Wireless is like talking to a retarded monkey about Shakespeare. (Actually, making that analogy probably does a disservice to retarded monkeys everywhere, who are clearly more qualified to run a business than AT&T Wireless.)
You'll remember that last Friday my husband and I ordered new phones. To ease confusion, we both ordered Blackberry Pearls, his is black and mine in red. The timing was good because my cell phone had just died, leaving me impotent in communications. We were super excited yesterday when UPS showed up to deliver these new phones, but my joy quickly turned to anger when I saw that they only delivered my husband's phone. I hopped online and discovered my phone is now on backorder--something the woman on the phone didn't tell me when we ordered and I never received an e-mail about or anything like that. Being as how I'm the one with the dead phone, this pissed me off. But we worked out a way to keep my phone on life support so I can keep in contact with people until my new one comes.
*sigh*
Fast forward to today. Unable to find how long the phone would be backordered online, I called customer service to ask the most basic question I could possibly ask about this problem: "How long is this phone going to be on backorder?"
I had first logged on to online customer service "live chat" and was immediately told that they don't have access to that information (of COURSE not!), and would have to call a phone number the rep provided me. Allow me, then, to explain to you how the next FORTY MINUTES of my life progressed trying to get this question answered.
I called that number and explained my problem to the rep. "My husband and I are on a family plan together. We both ordered new phones on Friday. He got his yesterday but I didn't get mine, and I just want to know how long mine will be backordered since it doesn't say online."
The rep put me on hold and came back a couple of minutes later. "Yes ma'am. My records show the order was shipped and you received it yesterday." Arg...it begins.
Me: "Yes, my HUSBAND got his. I did not get mine. I'm asking about mine....how long it will be on backorder."
Numnuts: "Yes, one moment. Let me check on that." (goes away for another 2 minutes) "Yes ma'am, ok. I am showing that your phone is on backorder. You will receive it when we get it."
Me: *breathe...breeeeeathe* "I know it's on backorder. We've established that. I want to know HOW LONG it will be on backorder. One week? A month?"
Numnuts: "Yes, one moment. Let me check on that." (goes away for another 2 minutes) "Yes ma'am, ok. You have a discounted account, according to my screen."
Me: "Yes, we have an education discount through my husband's work. Just now saw that, eh?"
Numnuts: "Yes, then I can't help you with that. You'll need to speak to Business Services. I'll transfer you."
Breathe...count to ten. No one is going to die today.
I wait on hold with Business Services for ohhh...5 minutes, then speak to a woman who seems more promising at first than Numnuts.
Me: "OK. Let's make this easier than it was for the last person I talked to. I ordered two phones. One came, one shows online as being backordered. For the love of God, can you tell me how long that other phone will be backordered? That's all I want."
Her: "Ok, no problem. It's showing here that that phone is backordered. We'll ship it out to you as soon as we get it back in stock."
MOTHER F!
Me: "I know this! I would sincerely hope you wouldn't just hold on to your new shipments of phones and hoard them for sadistic pleasure. Can you find out how long this phone will be backordered? Will it be days? Weeks? I'd like to know because my current phone is dead and that's not good for me."
(at this point we'll commence calling her ohhhh...how bout Asshat...yeah that works)
Asshat: "I'm gonna need to put you on hold for a few minutes to figure that out."
Me: "Sure why not? I don't have anything better to do with my time. Bring it on!"
She's gone for several minutes, then returns and tells me the phone will be backordered for three weeks. Of course it will! Why not? It's not like I didn't already pay for it or anything.
Me: "Ok, that's kind of a long time for me since my phone is dead and I was never told this was backordered from the beginning. I wouldn't have ordered it if I'd have known that. Since you haven't processed the order yet with the phone being on backorder, can I just cancel that order and pick a different phone that I can get sooner?"
Asshat: "I've never had to cancel an order before. Let me put you on hold for a few minutes to figure that out."
Me: "Ok."
Asshat comes back a few minutes later. "Ok, I won't be able to do that. You've already placed your order and committed to this phone."
Me: "Uhhh, but you guys also committed to send it to me in 3 to 5 business days, and that part's not happening either, is it? It's not like it's sitting there waiting to be shipped. You don't even HAVE this phone to send to me. How hard can it be to just pick a different one of the same price?"
Asshat: "I'm sorry, but unfortunately you already committed to this phone. If you'd like to pick a new phone, I'll have to charge you the full, undiscounted retail price for it. Then, if you don't still want the other phone that's currently on backorder, you'll have to refuse delivery from UPS when it shows up in a few weeks."
Me: "I'm sorry, but I don't see how it could possibly be this hard to make a simple switcheroo at this point in the game."
Asshat: "Unfortunately, ma'am, that's how it works."
At this point I ended the call because, well, I could feel my head beginning to explode. Hopefully yours is too, because I can't possible be alone in this, can I? I mean, seriously. Idiots! It's easier to get out of a goddamn marriage than it is to change an order with these people!
The good news I have to report, though, is that I got a call yesterday evening from the woman at the private tutoring place, and she offered me the job. I'll be starting there on Monday. Yay to finally being a little less of a pile of crap. Updates on that later.
You'll remember that last Friday my husband and I ordered new phones. To ease confusion, we both ordered Blackberry Pearls, his is black and mine in red. The timing was good because my cell phone had just died, leaving me impotent in communications. We were super excited yesterday when UPS showed up to deliver these new phones, but my joy quickly turned to anger when I saw that they only delivered my husband's phone. I hopped online and discovered my phone is now on backorder--something the woman on the phone didn't tell me when we ordered and I never received an e-mail about or anything like that. Being as how I'm the one with the dead phone, this pissed me off. But we worked out a way to keep my phone on life support so I can keep in contact with people until my new one comes.
*sigh*
Fast forward to today. Unable to find how long the phone would be backordered online, I called customer service to ask the most basic question I could possibly ask about this problem: "How long is this phone going to be on backorder?"
I had first logged on to online customer service "live chat" and was immediately told that they don't have access to that information (of COURSE not!), and would have to call a phone number the rep provided me. Allow me, then, to explain to you how the next FORTY MINUTES of my life progressed trying to get this question answered.
I called that number and explained my problem to the rep. "My husband and I are on a family plan together. We both ordered new phones on Friday. He got his yesterday but I didn't get mine, and I just want to know how long mine will be backordered since it doesn't say online."
The rep put me on hold and came back a couple of minutes later. "Yes ma'am. My records show the order was shipped and you received it yesterday." Arg...it begins.
Me: "Yes, my HUSBAND got his. I did not get mine. I'm asking about mine....how long it will be on backorder."
Numnuts: "Yes, one moment. Let me check on that." (goes away for another 2 minutes) "Yes ma'am, ok. I am showing that your phone is on backorder. You will receive it when we get it."
Me: *breathe...breeeeeathe* "I know it's on backorder. We've established that. I want to know HOW LONG it will be on backorder. One week? A month?"
Numnuts: "Yes, one moment. Let me check on that." (goes away for another 2 minutes) "Yes ma'am, ok. You have a discounted account, according to my screen."
Me: "Yes, we have an education discount through my husband's work. Just now saw that, eh?"
Numnuts: "Yes, then I can't help you with that. You'll need to speak to Business Services. I'll transfer you."
Breathe...count to ten. No one is going to die today.
I wait on hold with Business Services for ohhh...5 minutes, then speak to a woman who seems more promising at first than Numnuts.
Me: "OK. Let's make this easier than it was for the last person I talked to. I ordered two phones. One came, one shows online as being backordered. For the love of God, can you tell me how long that other phone will be backordered? That's all I want."
Her: "Ok, no problem. It's showing here that that phone is backordered. We'll ship it out to you as soon as we get it back in stock."
MOTHER F!
Me: "I know this! I would sincerely hope you wouldn't just hold on to your new shipments of phones and hoard them for sadistic pleasure. Can you find out how long this phone will be backordered? Will it be days? Weeks? I'd like to know because my current phone is dead and that's not good for me."
(at this point we'll commence calling her ohhhh...how bout Asshat...yeah that works)
Asshat: "I'm gonna need to put you on hold for a few minutes to figure that out."
Me: "Sure why not? I don't have anything better to do with my time. Bring it on!"
She's gone for several minutes, then returns and tells me the phone will be backordered for three weeks. Of course it will! Why not? It's not like I didn't already pay for it or anything.
Me: "Ok, that's kind of a long time for me since my phone is dead and I was never told this was backordered from the beginning. I wouldn't have ordered it if I'd have known that. Since you haven't processed the order yet with the phone being on backorder, can I just cancel that order and pick a different phone that I can get sooner?"
Asshat: "I've never had to cancel an order before. Let me put you on hold for a few minutes to figure that out."
Me: "Ok."
Asshat comes back a few minutes later. "Ok, I won't be able to do that. You've already placed your order and committed to this phone."
Me: "Uhhh, but you guys also committed to send it to me in 3 to 5 business days, and that part's not happening either, is it? It's not like it's sitting there waiting to be shipped. You don't even HAVE this phone to send to me. How hard can it be to just pick a different one of the same price?"
Asshat: "I'm sorry, but unfortunately you already committed to this phone. If you'd like to pick a new phone, I'll have to charge you the full, undiscounted retail price for it. Then, if you don't still want the other phone that's currently on backorder, you'll have to refuse delivery from UPS when it shows up in a few weeks."
Me: "I'm sorry, but I don't see how it could possibly be this hard to make a simple switcheroo at this point in the game."
Asshat: "Unfortunately, ma'am, that's how it works."
At this point I ended the call because, well, I could feel my head beginning to explode. Hopefully yours is too, because I can't possible be alone in this, can I? I mean, seriously. Idiots! It's easier to get out of a goddamn marriage than it is to change an order with these people!
The good news I have to report, though, is that I got a call yesterday evening from the woman at the private tutoring place, and she offered me the job. I'll be starting there on Monday. Yay to finally being a little less of a pile of crap. Updates on that later.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Stating the Obvious
Last night we went to dinner at an Amish buffet restaurant we've been to once before (because nothing, and I do mean nothing, says "romantic Friday night date" like a trip to the Amish buffet). Just as the last time were were there, they served waaaay too much unidentified fried stuff for my taste. You know it's bad when my husband (who will eat just about anything) inspects the texture of some bizarre glob of miscellaneous deep-fried animal organ and decides to pass on the grounds that it's a bit too suspicious.
Anyway, as we were leaving he noted what might be the best stupid thing I've seen in a while. The restaurant has an attached gift shop much like you'd see in a Cracker Barrel or other assorted redneck dining establishment. Prominently displayed on one of the shelves was a $10 game book called Fun Bible Sudoku. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but sudoku is a numbers game involving putting numbers in the correct order so they add up a certain way. What the hell kind of sudoku is Bible sudoku supposed to be? It's so stupid! Talk about taking people for a ride. Idiots. I'm going to invent Bible Rubick's Cube, charge twenty bucks for it, and see what kind of morons will buy it.
Finally, today's quote of the day comes from a bona fide asshole who yelled this from a passing car to my husband (but clearly directed it toward me) as we were on a walk together this afternoon: "Hey, she's fat! Get away from her!" To that person I say 1. how you've not won a Pulitzer Prize yet for your eloquence is beyond me, and 2. thank you for reminding me of alllll the reasons I'm glad I never have to be a middle-schooler again.
Anyway, as we were leaving he noted what might be the best stupid thing I've seen in a while. The restaurant has an attached gift shop much like you'd see in a Cracker Barrel or other assorted redneck dining establishment. Prominently displayed on one of the shelves was a $10 game book called Fun Bible Sudoku. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but sudoku is a numbers game involving putting numbers in the correct order so they add up a certain way. What the hell kind of sudoku is Bible sudoku supposed to be? It's so stupid! Talk about taking people for a ride. Idiots. I'm going to invent Bible Rubick's Cube, charge twenty bucks for it, and see what kind of morons will buy it.
Finally, today's quote of the day comes from a bona fide asshole who yelled this from a passing car to my husband (but clearly directed it toward me) as we were on a walk together this afternoon: "Hey, she's fat! Get away from her!" To that person I say 1. how you've not won a Pulitzer Prize yet for your eloquence is beyond me, and 2. thank you for reminding me of alllll the reasons I'm glad I never have to be a middle-schooler again.
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